Hermione's First Legal Spell
by daughterofdurinanddestiel
Summary: After Hermione Granger becomes a legal witch-and legally able to consent-her friends wonder what her first legal spell outside of school will be. A meeting in The Three Broomsticks with a certain sexy professor will make her cast that spell, and whatever follows will be solely between them.
1. Chapter 1

"Happy birthday!"

"How's it feel to be legal?"

"What's the first bit of magic you're gonna perform outside of Hogwarts?"

Hermione Granger giggled at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. "Thank you, Ginny. I don't feel any different, Harry. And I don't know, Ron. I never really thought about it."

It was the day all witches and wizards dreamed of: they day they became legally able to perform magic outside of Hogwarts. It was the year they could be considered adults, even if they were still students, like sixth-year Hermione.

She was excited for her birthday, of course, but while she was a student she didn't feel any different. She supposed she would feel better about being legally able to perform magic once the war really began and she needed to defend herself. She was the first of her year to hit seventeen, and it was a big deal to all of them.

There wouldn't be much celebrating that night, however, because she had detention she had received the day before in Defence Against The Dark Arts. She supposed she had spoken out of turn, but she couldn't help it. Watching Harry (or anyone who didn't bother to open a book) struggle through an answer she already knew was maddening. So she had blurted out the answer to Professor Snape's question, and therefore had gotten five points taken from Gryffindor and had to spend her birthday evening grading first years' papers.

It could have been worse, she supposed. She had had this sort of detention before, and last year she had been surprised to find that grading papers across from Snape in his slightly chilly office wasn't so bad. Snape was quiet and bookish like she was, not pressuring her to talk, and he never ridiculed her grading, either. It was almost preferable to spend an evening there, away from the chaos of the Gryffindor common room.

Before detention, there was Potions class with Slughorn. Hermione didn't know why, but she didn't really like him or his classes. It wasn't just that Harry was doing better than she was, but she didn't like the way Slughorn taught.

It wasn't until Snape was gone from the Potions class that Hermione appreciated what a great teacher he had been. Yes, he had been mean and cruel, yes he had punished her for the smallest infractions that Slughorn let slide, but he had demanded excellence, and anything less was met with contempt. In that way, he and Hermione were alike: second best was unacceptable, and not performing up to your personal best and beyond was akin to a sin. Slughorn was a slacker compared with Snape, and Hermione found it hard to believe the man had ever been a Slytherin.

This class they were learning about Amortentia, the love potion that, when you smelt it, it presented you the things that attracted you.

When Hermione smelt it, she had gotten hints of parchment, grass, and what she had thought was Ron's spearmint toothpaste, but as she was smelling again, she realised it was not spearmint, it was clean peppermint with a bit of musk under that parchment. Where had she smelt that before?

No time to think on it, She barely had time to do her homework before she had to go down to Snape's dungeon office for detention. Detentions were easier when you were older and a bit brighter. No scrubbing cauldrons or writing lines. And, as she had thought about, Snape was a quiet man, so detention wasn't as bad for her as it would be for Harry or Ron.

Snape was already at his desk, sorting parchment into piles for Hermione. He had discarded his cloak and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his frock coat at his throat and he looked as though he was exhausted.

"Granger," he greeted. To most, that would have been quite rude, but to get any sort of greeting from Snape was a shock.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, removing her school robe and placing it on the back of her chair. "I...um, I wanted to apologise for speaking out of turn, sir."

To her surprise, she saw Snape's dour face brighten just a bit, and a wry smirk appeared on his face. "Oh, Miss Granger, if you wanted to start apologising for every time you spoke out of turn in my classroom, I'd best clear up my schedule for a month or two."

Was Severus Snape making a joke? Hermione never thought she'd live to see the day! His black eyes had a spark in them she rarely saw and she felt her heart start to speed up just looking at him. Snape was not a classically handsome man, but the look on his face made him seem more than handsome: he looked like a mischievous schoolboy. Hermione was reminded that Snape was not that much older than she was, he was only thirty-six.

"Well, sir, we'd be spending quite a lot of time together, wouldn't we?" Hermione said, and immediately wished she could cover her mouth. _Why did I say that?_

Snape's scowl was back in place. "And wouldn't that be terrible for you." He handed her a sheaf of parchment.

"You know, sir, I never mind your detentions," she spoke up. "Except for today, you're mostly silent and it's very restful. I suppose I shouldn't say that, you're not supposed to enjoy detention, are you?"

"No, Miss Granger, but you never were a normal girl, were you?" he said, more as if he were speaking to himself.

They began to grade the reports, and Hermione was once again struck by how positively stupid some first years were. After five reports, she was ready to go into her own common room and strangle a few first years. She put the papers down in a huff.

"Professor?"

"Hm?"

"Is it legal for me to hex some of these kids now that I'm seventeen?"

Snape glanced up with a smirk. "Oh, Granger, how many times I want to do that myself." He paused over his grading and then mumbled, "Happy birthday."

Had Severus Snape just wished her a happy birthday? "T-Thank you, sir."

The rest of the evening was silent, until Hermione went to leave.

"Sir? Can I clear something up?" she asked.

"Proceed. My time is limited, Granger," he said.

Hermione sighed. "I often speak out of turn in class, and that is why I have always gotten in trouble with you."

He nodded. "Trust me, I know."

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I don't really think when I do it. When you pester the others-especially Harry or Neville-and I watch them struggle for the right answer, it is almost like a physical pain. Watching them strain their brains is torture and I just blurt out the right answers to end it. Not to be a know-it-all, or get your attention," she revealed. "I shouldn't have to suffer because they don't bother to study or are afraid of you, sir."

Snape chuckled low in his throat as he walked around his desk, towering over Hermione. "And you're not afraid of me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. In 99% of cases, most students would be running out of there in fear. Her betraying body wanted nothing more than to press herself against his body and see if he felt as firm as she had imagined.

"No, sir," she replied.

His smirk widened and he inclined his head towards her, making a lock of raven hair fall over his brow. "You should be."

Hermione shivered as he walked past her, his body just brushing against hers as he opened the dungeon door. She caught a whiff of parchment and...peppermint, with musk. _Oh, Merlin's saggy bollocks, what am I thinking?_ she wondered as she rushed past him to go back to the common room. Her heart was racing a million miles an hour, and she felt dizzy.

Severus Snape. Since when was she attracted to _Severus Snape_?

Harry and Ron had gotten a detention with McGonagall and had to miss a Hogsmeade weekend trip, so Hermione was on her own for the first time since third year. It wasn't as much fun shopping without them, but it was worse sitting all alone in The Three Broomsticks, when everyone around her was talking and laughing with their own group. Ginny was off with Dean Thomas, and Luna was nowhere in sight, nor was Neville. She fervently hoped that Cormac would not come around, as she had been trying very hard to avoid him at all costs.

She sighed into her nearly empty mug of butterbeer, at a loss to find some stimulating company when she heard a throat being cleared near her.

Glancing up, she saw Professor Snape standing before her, a mug of butterbeer in each hand. "Miss Granger. I thought I would take the liberty to bring you another mug as you look as lonesome as I assume I usually do. May I?"

He gestured to the chair across from her and she nodded dumbly, shocked at his solicitous nature all of a sudden.

He slid languidly into the chair and pushed the mug towards her.

"Thank you, Professor. What brings you here? I usually never see you on the Hogsmeade weekends," Hermione said.

"Because I usually do not care to be seen," he replied. "Tell me, where is the Dunderhead Duo this afternoon?"

Another joke, coming from her austere professor? The world must surely be ending.

"Detention, sir, with McGonagall. We had Hagrid take us here since she needed to stay," Hermione explained. She took a few pulls at her drink, her heart beating wildly, contrasting the mantra in her head of, _He's your professor. He's mean. He's cruel, He's nineteen years older than you. He is your damn_ professor _!_

"Miss Granger, is there something on my face which displeases you? If not, I highly suggest you stop staring," he said.

Hermione blushed a deep shade of crimson. "I apologise, sir. I didn't realise I was staring. I assure you, your face doesn't displease me." If it was possible, her blush deepened.

Snape smirked at her blunder and took a sip of his own drink and grimaced. "Ugh. Ghastly sweet. Why do I drink it?"

Hermione hid a smile. She had no idea where this more genial version of Snape had come from, but she liked it. "Because it's better in the daytime than firewhiskey?" she suggested, starting on her second drink.

Snape was silent, but it was not the tense kind of silence she was used to. This was comfortable. Hermione felt her heart beating faster as she watched his lips (lips she had thought of as thin and dry which now she realised had perfect colour and looked perfect for kissing) wrap around the mug's rim, and he unconsciously licked the foam from them.

She averted her eyes, fearing being caught staring a second time. Snape was always intellectually pleasing: there was never any denying he was brilliant. However, finding him pleasing in other ways drove Hermione crazy.

She asked him a benign question about Dark Arts, and he started to talk about one of the lessons he had recently given. She wanted to pay attention, she really did, but somehow she had forgotten what that voice did to her. She was torn between listening to his words-quite enthralling in and of themselves-and listening to his deep, nearly lyrical voice.

"Miss Granger, I do believe I am boring you," he said suddenly, shaking her from her fantasies.

"No, sir, you're not. I just…" She had no explanation. She'd die before she told him the truth, and any lie she could tell would insult him.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, did Potter inform you that I am a Legilimens?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. You can penetrate the mind, but it's not like Muggle movies," she replied. "I read up on it and Occlumency last year. Fascinating spells, and you must be very skilled to have mastered both."

He nodded at the compliment. "I am also skilled in nonverbal spells. Which means that I can easily see into your mind. For a smart woman, you leave your mind wide open, Granger."

Hermione's entire body froze in fear. What was she going to say now? Could he expel her for her thoughts? Was it possible? She never thought that Cormac McLaggen would be a pleasant sight, but when she saw him coming up to their table, she almost sighed in relief.

"Hermione," he said jovially. "Why don't you come join us?" He was already quite pissed, and she was no longer relieved to see him.

Snape's dark eyes darkened even more. "I do believe she is already in conversation with me, McLaggen, someone on her own intellectual level. Might I suggest you sober up and go back and study? Your last test scores made 'Troll' seem a bit too acceptable for a grade."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh as Cormac slunk away, defeated and a little angry.

"Miss Granger, tell me you were not ever considering that great imbecile to...associate with you," Snape said.

"No, sir."

"Really? Even when you took him to Slughorn's Christmas Party?" Snape asked.

 _I only did it to take my mind off of you_ , Hermione thought, and then blanched when Snape's eyes sparkled even more. Legilimency was a brilliant talent to have, and right then Hermione wanted to sink into the ground and be swallowed whole to avoid this conversation.

"Well, not to talk myself up, but I do believe that he would be quite the poor substitute," Snape drawled.

"He was." No use denying it now. He knew, and she was about to be forced to face the music. "Sir, please, can't you let me leave here with at least some of my dignity intact? Can't we pretend this afternoon never happened?"

Snape grimaced, eyes clouding. "No, Miss Granger, I cannot pretend. You are a student, albeit an adult, who admitted to...very lewd thoughts about your professor and superior. That is not something I can simply put behind me. It must be dealt with, and the sooner the better."

Hermione wanted to cry. "You're not going to expel me, are you? As you said, I am an adult."

Snape nodded. "You are, and for that reason I cannot expel you. Come. This needs to be discussed much more...privately." He stood up and pointed. "Madam Rosemerta has a small room she uses for private conferences. Follow me."

Hermione stood and followed her professor to the small room where Harry had spied on McGonagall and Fudge in their third year, after Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. Once she was inside Snape shut the door firmly behind them, the look in his dark eyes pinning her to the spot before the small table.

"Sir, really, I do apologise for my thoughts. I promise to never reveal a thing about how I feel to anyone and-"

"For the love of Merlin, Hermione, be quiet," Snape growled, stalking up to her, his body pressing the small of her back against the table.

Her heartbeat quickened as she felt his heat through his clothes, and smelt that sweet, musky scent that was so uniquely him. She was dizzy with shame and arousal, torn between wanting to bolt and wanting to reach out and touch him. Vaguely, her mind registered that he had used her given name for the first time.

"Professor-"

"Silence," he said, his own voice barely above a whisper as she felt his hand come up to cup the back of her head through her unruly hair and his lips crashed down on hers. They were hot and firm, pressing against her with heated certainty that their intrusion would be accepted, and he was right: this was all she had wanted since the year had begun. His other hand came to rest upon her waist, holding her tightly as his tongue proceeded to part her lips, licking and exploring her mouth.

She gasped into the kiss, arching her body into his and he groaned pulling away to start kissing her neck, nipping at the delicate flesh. She tossed her head back and gave him better access. His hand left her head and suddenly she was lifted to sit on the tabletop, his hands tight on her hips and his mouth making its way lower, to the edge of her blouse.

She started to unbutton it, and his hot mouth followed her fingers. When his hands joined hers in pushing her blouse from her shoulders and he reached down, inside her bra, and took a peaked nipple between his fingers and she let out a mewl.

"Sir, someone will hear!" she gasped as his lips went to her other nipple, her bra having suddenly disappeared from her entirely.

He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling and his expression that of a hungry wolf and said, "Then make sure they do not hear. You're a witch, you know what to do."

And so Hermione found her wand and pointed it at the door, casting her first legal spell, " _Muffliato_."


	2. Chapter 2

Severus was surprised, he had to admit. He had expected the girl to try and either curse him or go running back to Hogwarts. The fact that she had silenced them to the outside world so they could not be disturbed shocked and pleased him. It wasn't till a moment later that he realised she had used his own spell, a spell none but he knew. A spell that he'd written in an old textbook when he had been sixteen.

How on Earth had she known that? He shook himself mentally. He had come up with the spell when he had been sneaking into the Potions classroom and hadn't wanted to be heard as he conducted private experiments. It was not too big of a stretch to think that a brilliant student like Hermione had discovered it in a similar fashion: trying different things until one worked. It was an odd coincidence, but then again, stranger things had happened.

He vowed to question her about it, but right at that moment, he had a half-naked, panting, hot seventeen-year-old woman laid before him like a buffet, and he was _not_ letting this opportunity slip through his fingers!

Hermione laid her wand on the table next to her, reaching up and suddenly seeming emboldened by her spellcasting as she reached to unbutton his frock coat and untie his cravat with soft, nimble fingers. He watched her as she worked, doing this as methodically as she did everything else.

He took her chin in hand and tilted her face up to his. "This isn't a test, Hermione. Have you done this before?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He disentangled her hands from his shirt, as he had no plans on removing any more clothing than was necessary. "Lay back."

She did as he asked, and he could feel her nervousness as he caressed her thighs. A wave of his hand and her panties disappeared the same as her bra. Severus flipped her skirt up to her waist and gently caressed her already soaking wet opening.

 _Teenagers. I can only imagine how many times she'll come just this afternoon_ , he thought as he gently blew on her, causing her to squirm.

His lips closed around her clit and she yelped, her hips arching up. With one strong hand, he held her down to the table as he began to eat her out, tasting her salty sweet juices as his tongue explored every inch of her. He turned his tongue's attentions back to her bud while he slowly inserted one finger in her hole.

Another surprised yelp escaped her and he smirked. She might not be a virgin, but she sure as Hell hadn't had a real man show her pleasure. He inserted a second finger, feeling her tight hole close around it as he tried stretching it open wider. She'd never take his cock now if he didn't.

"Oh, fuck, that hurts," she gasped.

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked, moving his mouth away from her clit.

"No, please don't, sir," she said breathlessly.

"It will only hurt more," he warned. He leaned over her, taking the skin of her neck in his mouth and sucking on it, bruising it as she writhed up against him. He added a third finger, his thumb pressing her swollen bud. She was so tight around his fingers as he thrust them in and out. His cock was protesting that it wasn't in there instead, pressing against his flies.

"Come, Hermione. Come for me," he commanded, biting down on her nipple as he increased his speed and she came then with a shout that would have alerted the Aurors had she not cast that spell, covering his hand in her juices.

He caressed her as she came down from her high, marvelling that he was in this position. The greasy git, the bat of the dungeons. He knew what they all thought of him. He had never imagined he'd find himself in this situation, but Merlin help him if he did not enjoy it.

He unbuttoned his flies, freeing his pulsing cock from its confines as he teased her slit with the head and she sucked in her breath.

"Are you ready, Hermione?" he asked, his voice barely a rumble in his chest.

She nodded, her hair spreading more on the table. "Yes, sir." Submissive, bare, spread before him like that, she was a nymph of legend. Never had he thought that goody Hermione Granger would be this abandoned, this wanton. It was enough to make him have to squeeze his bollocks so that he didn't come too soon.

He slid his cock along her slit a few more times, coating himself in her juices. She was so wet it was dripping down her thighs, and it would help ease the pain. She must not have as much experience as others her age, because she was vacuum tight.

Slowly, he pushed the head in and she gave a breathy moan. He moved in an inch at a time until he was fully seated in her soft, wet, warmth. If this was as close as he would ever get to Heaven, he'd take it. Unable to help a groan that escaped his own throat, he held still, allowing her body to become accustomed to his intrusion.

"Professor," she gasped. "If you don't move I might die."

 _Precisely what I was thinking_ , he thought, slowly pulling out until he was almost completely out of her before slamming himself back in, rocking Hermione and the table beneath them. A couple more thrusts and he saw that she was starting to meet him in his rhythm, arching her hips up to bury his cock deeper inside of her.

He took each of her pale legs in his hands and helped her to wrap them around his waist as he braced himself over her on the table, trying to keep up his timing. She was so wet he nearly slipped out many times.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Pinch your nipples. I want to see you."

She did as he asked, moaning more at the sensations. "Sir, please, harder," she gasped.

The sight of her moaning and begging, her nipples red and pointed and her neck bruised from his mouth, nearly undid him, but he maintained control. He wanted her to come before he did. So he acquiesced, thrusting harder, hearing her wet hole squelch with every thrust. The only sounds in the room for a few minutes was the protesting table, Hermione's moans, and flesh slapping against flesh.

He listened as her moans got higher, breathier, and said, "That's it, Hermione, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me hear you."

She did as he said, coming again with a shout. Her walls squeezed his cock as he kept thrusting through her release, barely holding himself together. He wanted her to come once more, to give all she had to him.

He leaned over and grabbed her by a fistful of unruly hair, pulling her still quivering body up so that she was in a sitting position and kissed her, his tongue fucking her mouth in a crude pantomime of what his cock was currently doing to her.

She grabbed him, one hand on his shoulder and the other twining in his oily black hair as she returned his kiss, barely even deterred as he kept fucking her.

 _Ah, to be seventeen again_ , he thought, smiling into the kiss. He pulled back, enjoying the haze of pleasure in her whiskey hued eyes, the smear of mascara below them accentuating their sensuality

"One more time Hermione, give yourself to me," he said, shocked by the deep, dark sound of his own voice.

She clung to him as he slid in and out of her, rubbing her pelvis against his tantalisingly. He smiled as he reached behind her and gave her pert little arse a good smack and she moaned. Who would have ever thought that she, of all people, would be the best sexual partner he'd ever had?

He reached one hand between them and felt for her wet, swollen clit, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger to help her along. It didn't take long for her to crash over the edge this time as she squirted around him, crying out almost as if she was pained, but the hazy smile on her face said otherwise.

He pulled himself out, feeling her juices drip onto his trouser leg. He needed to come, but just realised that she had not cast a contraceptive charm, and he had no idea if she took the potion he brewed for Pomfrey every year. Better safe than sorry.

"On the floor, on your knees," he ordered, tugging her up and off the table. Her legs seemed unsteady, so better for her he needed her seated at his feet.

She obeyed, in fact it seemed she knew what he wanted. He wondered how many others had used her mouth before this and decided to stop that thought immediately. Just the thought of a Gryffindor imbecile doing this to her made him feel ill.

His cock was still covered in her come, but that didn't deter her. She leaned forward and licked him from base to tip, and he nearly exploded just from the erotic sight it offered. He put one hand on the back of her head and guided her mouth to his tip and she sucked it in greedily, causing him to gasp. She looked up at him almost innocently, though she was anything but innocent as she knelt there with her come dripping down her thighs and lips wrapped around his cock.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped. "Suck."

She took him deeper into her mouth, tracing the underside with her tongue. He thrust along, not going too deep because he had no idea what her gag reflex was like. He jumped a bit as her arm hand caressed his sac, and she hummed around his length. That was it for Severus, he grabbed her hair harder and held her still, thrusting fast and hard into her sweet mouth.

She was moaning around his cock and the vibrations were what finally undid him. With a full-body spasm he came down her throat and she kept sucking, draining every drop from him, licking him clean like he was a lolly from Honeyduke's.

He leaned back against the table, trying to gather up his usual control and attitude, but that was hard to do when buttoning your trousers and cleaning the come of your student off of them. His dark eyes watched as Hermione stood from the floor, her face now flaming red from the realisation of what they had just done. She glanced around her, on the floor.

"Looking for your lingerie?" he asked coolly, smirking. She nodded. "Come to my office tomorrow evening and I will _see_ about giving them back to you." He stepped up to her and gave her one last kiss, tasting the saltiness of their intermingled release on her lips before he left.

 _I'm mad, completely insane_ , Hermione thought the next night when she approached the dungeons. _I was bonkers yesterday, certainly, but also a bit tipsy, I think. So to go here stone-cold sober tonight would be utter madness._

Nevertheless, there she was, standing before Snape's office door, and her heart knew what her mind didn't want to admit: she wanted a repeat performance of the previous day's activities in The Three Broomsticks. It didn't matter to her what the negatives were, for once she truly understood Harry's love of breaking rules, if they led to experiences like the previous day's.

Hesitantly, she knocked and waited till his dark, silky voice called for her to enter. He was seated at his desk, marking quizzes. She saw Neville's handwriting one one that was positively covered in red marks and hid a smile.

"You asked to see me, Professor?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

He glanced up, just a flash of those unfathomably dark eyes, and said, "Yes. Please have a seat. We have a few...things to discuss."

Hermione sat, feeling even more apprehensive.

After a few moments, Snape put his red quill away and moved the parchments aside. His eyes now bore into hers, sending shivers down her spine.

"Yesterday...you used a spell not approved in any text, especially not by the Ministry," Snape said, and Hermione was surprised. He wanted to talk about a spell? After everything that had occurred between them? "In the grand scheme of things that spell was not...the most important thing from yesterday, but your having knowledge of illegal magic is problematic, and I would be a poor teacher if I did not question you about it. ...So, where did you learn it?"

 _Oh shit_ , she thought. _He'll know anyway, if he's a Legilimens._ "My friends and I found it. Written in an old textbook."

He arched an eyebrow. Why was that gesture so damn sexy? "Which one? In the library?"

"I can't recall," she said, hoping he wasn't peering into her mind at that moment.

Snape leaned back in his chair and said, "I am not normally allowed to use my Legilimency on students unless it involves cheating-like with Longbottom and you in third year-so I won't use it on you now. But I know for a fact that that book has corrections to use to cheat Slughorn. I know you would never keep a book like that. So which one? Potter or the Weasley boy?"

"Anyone in sixth year could have it, sir," Hermione lied.

"I will be looking for it," he said. "So you might want to advise them all to be rid of it before _I_ find it."

 _Oh fuck that threatening tone is not meant to be sexy_ , Hermione thought, crossing her legs tightly.

His smirk reappeared then, now he must be using that damned spell of his. "Now on to other things. Yesterday…"

"Yes, I do fancy having my underwear back," Hermione said.

"Brave little minx you are," Snape said. "Let's say I get to keep them as a memento in exchange for three orgasms in a matter of ten minutes. ...Well, no need to blush _now_ , Hermione. What's done is done and we both enjoyed ourselves."

"But...what happens now?" Hermione asked. "Sir, if I can be bold enough to say so, I don't want to go on like it never happened. I know all of the possible repercussions, all the reasons why a repeat of yesterday is a terrible idea but...I can't help it. The heart doesn't know reason."

He nodded. "You are correct, the heart is a flighty thing. But there are not many things wrong except for the little fact that you are my student, Hermione. If you were not, we would not be having this discussion...you would be flat on your back in my bed, begging me for mercy."

Oh, and didn't those words go straight to her core.

"And you...you'd want me? The Gryffindor know-it-all?"

Snape's expression softened. "You annoyed me as a child, there's no denying that, but even I know I sometimes went too far. You changed this year, even I can see that."

She smiled at him. "So have you." She leaned across the table and placed her hand on top of his, feeling the roughness of his skin. He had a small scar on the back of his knuckles, and she wondered if it was from a stray hex or a fight. "I want you, Severus, and I'm not going to give you up out of _formality_."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," he said, standing up. He seemed to be unaffected by her using his give name. "I am not the sort of man you deserve. I am what I make myself to be: cold, cruel, sarcastic, calculating, secretive, isolated. Sex is one thing, I am good at it because of the things I just listed. To hang your heart on me would be...unfair to you."

It hurt her to hear him say those things about himself. "I think you're much more than that."

He glared at her. "You're mistaken."

She stood as well and walked deliberately around the desk, touching him without permission. She splayed her hand over his heart and felt its quickened beat. "For just a moment yesterday, when you looked at me after you kissed me, I had a glimpse of someone else, the man you hide away for whatever reasons. And that is the man I want. The man you are, whether you wish to admit it or not.

"I will wait, Severus. Until I graduate...if Voldemort doesn't kill us all before then. I'll wait for you."

"I am not worth the wait," Severus protested.

She leaned in closer. "That isn't for you to decide."

He wound strong arms around her waist, and she felt his warmth through his robes. "You won't want me that long, believe me."

"And if I do?" she challenged.

He paused and then said, "If you still want me once you're no longer a Hogwarts student-which I highly doubt-then I will gladly welcome you into my bed...and into my heart."


End file.
